


Collection of Strider-centric minifics

by Brorito_Dorito_Daddy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Image, Collection of a lot of smaller fics, Dom Dave, Failed Kink, Multi, One fic with platonic Brodave, Sensory Deprivation, Trans Dave, Will add more tags as I add more content, lots of sappiness, sub bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brorito_Dorito_Daddy/pseuds/Brorito_Dorito_Daddy
Summary: Wanted to post a bunch of works I have laying in my drive or on my blog, but are too small to be their own fics. They're meant to be tidbits of separate universes





	1. Candy Cigarettes are Really Weird

Little kid Dave finding several cartons strewn around the futon. When he reads the word “cigarette”, he flips out because Bro said he quit already!

 

So he’s marches to Bro’s room, ready to chew him out like the  little big kid he is. The door’s already open and he can see Bro isn’t paying attention so he steps in a little nervously. Not having been invited in so it’s kinda sneaky the way he approaches his desk chair. Bro’s zoning out to some video with the stick in between his lips. Dave is just about to get his attention to start his big speech when there’s this soft  _ crunch _ . Like breaking street chalk. Dave looks up to see the cigarette being chewed on and swallowed to his utter confusion ‘ _ You’re not supposta eat cigarettes…?’ _

 

So he just stands there gawking, trying to figure out what to make of this weird conundrum, when Bro finally notices Dave staring at him like “Whaddya want?”

 

Dave, at a loss for words, just points to the last speck of cigarette poking out of his mouth.

 

“Wha? Oh Thiss?”

 

Dave nods, slowly.

 

“Ish candy,” he slurs as he chews the last of the stick

 

_ ‘Wait, what?’ _ Dave tilts his head, perplexed.

 

“Wanna try one?” Bro offers him the half empty carton of chalky sticks. To his amusement, Dave backs away wearily.

 

“Not the real thing. I promised, don’t you remember?” He coaxes and Dave finally gives in. Taking one from the box and sniffing it.

 

_ ‘Doesn’t smell like it, doesn’t really look like it. And Bro doesn’t lie so…’ _ Dave thoughts end there when he nibbles on the piece, to be surprised by the taste of sugar instead of foul bitterness. He takes another bite just to be sure. Sure enough, more sugar.

 

He continues to nibble until only remnants of powdery white cling to his fingers, then asks for another one. Bro obliges and they share that and another box of candy cigarettes while Dave sits in his lap.

 


	2. Through My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro attempting to help Dave deal with body image issues, internal fatphobia.

I see you.

 

Sulking there, hanging over the futon. It’s obvious you’re staring at the kitchen, the tension in your hands gripping the bars of the seat. You’re refusing yourself something.

 

It’s not my right, but I despise it.

 

Dave, before I can say something to you, you’re already making your way towards me. Hesitance in your step, meek and resigned. My encouragement is sitting back from my desk and swiveling your direction. “C’mon now,” I implore, “What’s up?”

 

Your words are the weight settling into my lap. Arms around my neck, downcast still, but pressed flush against me, I hear your pulse.

 

Dearest one, I hold you here. Arms around your legs and shoulders, swiping at your lovely skin absentmindedly. What are you thinking? Every unsaid thing culminates into the sight of your dazzling eyes, slowly looking up at me.

 

Guilt, longing. You want to know it’s alright, but you can’t convince yourself. But you know, you know that I can give you an argument.

 

Slowly, my hand travels up your legs, curving up to the soft chub of your thighs, sweet oh so sweet. Places I’ve gently held before, kissed before, slept on before. Up, taking hold of your stomach. Soft, lovely oh so lovely. I rub into it, soothing circles. Will you settle down?

 

You do! A cool sigh, one of relief I’m sure, against my neck. Which I admit makes me shiver, pleasantly. You’re doing so well you should know. But can you do this one thing?

 

“What would you like for dinner?” I try to be gentle, prompt you, but not to command you. First a wave of tenseness I feel. Your hands shift, rising from over my shoulders, up to my face. Your hands are so soft and cool, did you know that? Of course I’ll pay attention to you, lean into you.

 

Your words are a whisper, gentle against my ear, leaning up to me; dragging me down to you. A moment of hesitance, but this time I hear a smile form, exhale of breath.

 

“Whatever you’re cooking, Bro,”

 

“Stir fry noodles, then?”

 

“If I was physically able to,” your smile is even wider now, “I would eat the whole pan.”

 

“We’ll start with a bowl,” I reassure you.

 

We’ll start there, I’ll always help you every step of the way.


	3. Sound, Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About how good wonderful Dave feels in bed, and just about everywhere

The way he sang under your unrelenting attention was music to your ears.  
  
Hearing Dave’s voice was something delicious and sweet. But when he whimpered with every touch, moaned with every kiss; crying out in pleasure as you take every chance to overwhelm him with heat and passion, that, was something to be cherished. It was like a delacy tailored to your senses, something you alone could indulge in.  
  
Dave knew that. You can tell by the way by he started to vocalize his desires. What he wants, what he likes. When he nears his end, he screams a mantra of _Dirk_ ’s, which are just audible over other incoherent cries. Over and over again until both of your last shudders, where he trembles limp and breathless into the bed. Still babbling, trying to make out words in a language lost to him.  
  
You take satisfaction in caring for him afterwards. Resting in his arms until his breathing smoothes out, you then cradle him ever so gently in your arms to go and wash or dress any marks you laid upon him. He never lets go of you anymore. Always seeming to feel your skin, examine your outfit, comb your hair. With him, you never minded this contact like you did with others. He’s too similar, too mirrorlike to yourself to be unfamiliar, but just enough differences to find the comfort of another being in.  
  
So when he holds onto you as he basks in the heated water of the tub, you find yourself rather relieved than distressed. At ease with his relentless contact. His ruby eyes slowly droop closed as his lips meet yours once more and you press back into a relaxed, lazy kiss. Finding no arousal due to the both of you normally being completely spent by this time, but pleasure is found nonetheless in this simple action. He murmurs your name against your lips and you respond in turn. Both fitting perfectly together.


	4. A Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is a wonderful fool who needs to be reminded to take his binder off sometimes

Dave is really shitty about having off days with his binder and tries to keep it on for as long as he can, every day.

  
But Bro is having none of that shit and so he keeps a calendar/note of how long Dave has been binding and when he deems Dave needs a breather or he notices Dave’s thin air of discomfort, he saunters on up and just starts peeling the layers off.

  
Of course Dave will whine and complain that he has “somewhere to be”/”something to do later tonight” etc, but he knows better than to actually resist Bro (because he knows he is right) and begrudgingly lifts his arms so Bro can lift the binder off and cast it away somewhere, all while murmuring ' _ Dave, hush.' _ '  in his ear as a reassurance, a consolation.

And Dave just melts a little from his sweet voice and Bro’s hands on him, leaning back with a tired sigh and Bro takes that as a sign to bring Dave to the couch, carefully bringing Dave down to lay on top of him.

  
Bro promises if anything  _ is _ actually happening that night, that Dave can borrow one of his oversized sweaters and Dave just nods and nuzzles his chest while picturing himself drowning in the bulk of Bro’s nice smelling clothing.

  
Bro knows that Dave gets why he needs some off times, but he also knows that this is an established habit and is fine with rolling with it until he finishes saving up for surgery.


	5. Seasonal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt on the Kinkmeme renissance. How Bro and Dave interact with a snippet of summer and winter once at home

You both could live comfortably off of Bro's income if you wanted to, but you didn't. You got a job, part time so you could have that little extra cushioning, but mostly to please Bro. Not that he wasn't pleased before, but there was a certain kind of appreciation that came with bringing home a bouquet of tiger lilies that you grinded hard for. 

 

Once a month, stopping by to sniff out a selection that will be then carefully taken by him and trimmed to a vase. Only to become a piece of the background as he took you into his arms and adorned with fervent sweet kisses everywhere he could reach.

 

You always came home after Bro. In the winter there would be some warm milk kept on the stove. He would always be ready for you to claim your spot inbetween his thighs and melt against him. To be secured by a blanket while you both slip away and speak softly about the days happenings. 

 

In summer it's always a frozen bottle of apple juice, carefully taken in and out of the freezer to achieve perfect slush for when you arrive. Then to sprawl out on the floor, pointedly not touching eachother for the sun has you both whining miserably about it. Until you do wind up touching and then it spirals into sweaty makeouts and frotting. Whining lethargic with increased pitifulness about the heat, but otherwise wholy pleased when you have to slog over to the shower afterwards.

 

This time, almost, but not quite the hell of summer, has you sporting an arrangement of snapdragons -Bros personal favorite- larkspur and of course romantic roses. Kept close to your chest all the way home. A dreamy lover you felt like, his love was wonderful to you. 

 

Through these flowers it created some semblance to a more admittedly normal (non-incestous) sort of love, but also you just enjoyed them. And Bro enjoyed them too, sometimes suggesting that you grow your own. The lack of space indoors and the heat outdoors made it impossible however.

 

Either way, it was pleasant, especially when he sometimes picks you up and takes you straight to bed he's so pleased wit- oh and you're home now.

 

Confidently, you walk up the stairs and in through the door.

 

"Honey-bunches of sweet gay ass I'm home, broski."

 


	6. Sensory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first, Dave suggests a new kink. This would be as dominant, giving Bro the experience of his idea. No harm in going for it as long as they know what they’re doing. Sure Dave, take the reins.
> 
> And so he does.

You eagerly instruct Bro to shower so it gives you time to set up. Pulling out a few items from your room to bring to his larger bed: Carefully hand sewn strips of padded cloth along with a pair of headphones. These are set on the nightstand, perfectly laid out to the point where you were leaned over the furniture just so you could perfect the positioning. Not that it matters anyway, when Bro slinks in with only a towel around his waist.   
  
Before any dumb words can escape from Bro’s stupid mouth, You're right up in his face, pinning him to the doorframe (ouch) with hands on his arms and lips ensnared in a searing, quivering kiss. Bro is too startled to do anything until you tug on his arms to get him to stumble forward to the bed.

 

At the last moment, you swing around and throw a very limp Bro into the covers where he falls with a solid  _ thumph _ onto his back. Eyebrows furrowed now and mouth open like he is about to ask a question, but you interrupt him with a sharp command.   
  
“Sit up, lean forward, hands behind your back.”   
  
Bro complies with hesitance, but eventually sits where his head almost rests between his legs, wrists together against his back. To which you give a hum of approval, picking up the first piece of fabric to loop around and bind his hands snugly together. Pulling Bro back to an upright sitting position once you're finished while Bro wiggles his arms to stretch out the fabric.   
  
When you look over the first addition to his work, you see all is well so far, nod, and put your hands on Bro’s shoulders for stability as you swing your leg around, settling into his lap with a lascivious smirk.  Now the rest of the fun may begin.

 

\---

  
A truly unusual sound breaks you out of your lust-laced reverie and you snap to attention. A broken whine, strained to the point of the highest pitch, to the point where you would be (and are) concerned for the well being of Bro’s vocal chords. This brings you to look up at his face, and oh the sight.

 

The way his chest heaves to puff out breaths that only get trapped by his gag, hot pants mixed in with broken whimpers pull you into a stupor. Watching his riled up state only serves to deepen your need to indulge yourself in this exercise more often. Watch Bro bend to your will...witness when he starts to beg…

 

Transfixed until, you pick up on the way he waves his head around, snapping from side to side, like he’s looking for something. Another pinched noise escapes the gag and your mouth parts with a tiny peep of shock.

 

Oh fuck, how could you not of picked up on this.

 

You panic, just as Bro is panicking before you. You chastise yourself fervently as you quickly snap to attention, hurriedly running your hands up his chest, to his neck where you feel him jolt and begin to tremble. You feel the rapid pulse of his heartbeat under your touch.

 

Slowly, making sure Bro knows your every move, you slide your fingertips up his neck, trace his jaw and slip back to his cheeks to knock the headphones away, pull down the gag and tug it out of his mouth. He releases it with a gasp, a shaky pant shortly following.

 

The blindfold goes next, but you take your time with this one. Making sure to peel it away a little at a time so the situation isn’t made worse and you blast him with the sudden light of the room. He blinks once, twice. Eyes staring ahead until he looks to you. A sudden expression of relief and sorrow washing over him as he takes you up in his arms and embraces you tightly, still shaking.

 

You feel his jaw against your shoulder press down, he’s about to start apologizing.

 

You won’t have any of that shit however. With a fluster of hands, you pat Bros back as best as you can, shushing him before he can get a word in.

 

“Hey, it’s good. It’s good, are you good?” you rush as his shaking subsides. Ragged breaths turn to calmer white noise, broken by a the most tiny hum of assurance.

 

“Sorry,” Bro utters quietly and you want to hiss, but you merely sigh instead. You understand, just this once he can apologize. His koala grip loosening until he’s slack in your arms, exhausted.

 

Slowly, you push back on him, giving you enough space to look up into his face. Bro's flushed a deep red, spreading to his ears and neck, almost adorably so. When he meets your eyes, he shares an appreciative almost adoring smile. He knows you can take care of him. You’re far from inexperienced or submissive. It’s one slip up, and you handled it.

 

You've got him, and you're still gonna make sure you both feel good in this.

 

You end up fucking Bros thighs as he favors; his hands grasping you together until you're both trembling from overstimulation. Collapsing on top of his warm, icky stomach while his legs flop down at your sides. Peppering his collar and neck with kisses as he slides you up to nuzzle into your hair. He's so soft and lovey dovey like this. You love making your big brother feel loved, adored, taken care of, just as he does for you.

 

You love him so much.  



	7. Skyrush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based off an RP of Bro and Davesprite moving to a remote place so Davesprite can stretch his wings. Warning for a ton of Pennsylvania references, because it sucks and is fun to make fun of

The first time he took you flying, it was terrifying and only after he hovered in the air with his sprite magic for a solid five minutes or so to get you to stop screaming and yelling like Tarzan did you start to feel the thrill before the fear.   
He marveled at the fact that he never knew you were afraid of heights, and you retorted that flying at forty miles an hour while only attached to a slim feathery body in almost pitch dark was a lot different than just balancing precariously on the top of a building.

He stuck his tongue out and if it weren't for the fact that you were both floating a few hundred yards above the ground, you would have taken it in a searing kiss out of spite.

And he knew that. You could tell because he starts snickering as you gave him a frustrated look.

You would also like to have smacked him upside the head.

He knew that too.

 

The second time, you can already feel your gut twisting and churning before he even takes your hands, places them around his shoulders and waits for you to the rest. Climbing on unceremoniously and hugging on to him tight with your entire body like a baby in a carrier as he rests his talons on your waist and slowly starts his ascent into the starry night sky.

But you’re an adult -hilarious as that concept is since fifteen years ago- and you can handle a bit of thrill.

 

You force yourself to look around and not just bury your face into Dave’s feathery collar and  _ of you are really far up and he’s still rising like the Hershey Kissing Tower and up he is going when is he going to stop, how far above the treeline does he want to be. I hope I get candy after this tour wait no that’s Chocolate World not Hersheypark. _

Dave is just watching your face and body for any cues of discomfort and he asks how you are doing. You may or may not have just blurted out “Is this Kissing Tower or the Fahrenheit rollercoaster.”

 

He laughs, outright  _ laughs _ in your face. Something he would not have dared to do before.

“Yeah, I could be the vanilla-ass ride you take your visiting family to just go ‘Look, this is Hershey, Pennsylvania isn’t it great with all the gas stations and Red Robin and oh look also the Pennsylvania state fair where you get those delicious maple candies. And I also have tickets to go to the Sight and Sound Theatres for The Miracle of Christmas, we can go to Golden Corral afterwards. That sound like Godly fun?’” You cringe at it’s spot on accuracies and he laughs some more.

 

“How about instead, I take you on a ride on the Storm Runner and we do this Strider style,” Dave propositions and you now realize he has distracted you into about another hundred yards of height and the ground is so, so far away. The knots coil in your stomach as you will yourself to keep calm and look him in the face.

 

Against your screaming conscience you shrug.

 

“I don’t see why not.”

He fucking dives and it only takes a millisecond in to regret your indifference.

You try to convince yourself that the unholy noises you are hearing are not of your own making.

Rapidly descending towards the ground is a lot slower than you thought it would be.

Also a lot less painful than you thought.

 

Dave snaps up at the last moment to fly parallel to the tall grass on the clearing side on the house and with a strong flap of his wings you are soaring upwards again. The world falls away from your feet once more as you and Dave stretch upwards into the sky’s embrace.

 

And you realize you’re quiet now. Still terrified, but observant, not reactionary. You move your grip on Dave’s shoulders and instead hook them around his neck. Legs readjusting their clasp around his thick tail He looks down at you, hair and feathers quivering in the wind, and practically grins.

 

“Having a good time?” he inquires excitedly and you barely manage a shaky nod.

 

You mentally scold yourself for trembling and whimpering like a fucking child.  _ Shit’s all kinds of uncool. The horrible kind of uncool. _ But you can’t really help it if you are hanging from Dave’s neck a good height over the treetops. Dave brings you back in with a squeeze of his talons. Just barely pricking through your shirt.

 

You meet his gaze questioningly as he smiles.

 

“One more time.” It isn’t a question, it’s a request. His ascent slows as he maintains his stare. Still waiting for you to agree.

 

You nod again and give him a light peck on the lips before feeling the rush of falling with style.


End file.
